


be(longing)

by mintgreentea05



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Confessions, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, Internal Conflict, M/M, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Prince!George, They cuddle at the end, it's a lil spicy oops, servant!dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28824123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintgreentea05/pseuds/mintgreentea05
Summary: It was a hard pill to swallow for Clay, but he had learned to accept his feelings for George would never become anything like he had hopelessly dreamed of.orServant Clay is in love with prince George.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 170





	be(longing)

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh my first fic! i wrote this as a lil self-indulgent oneshot, but i decided to publish it, so enjoy!

Clay balanced the food tray on one forearm as he used his other hand to push open the heavy wooden door, almost losing his balance and dropping the tray in the process. You’ve been doing this for too long to be almost dropping the tray and scattering the food all over the floor, he thinks.

He regained his composure as he took a step into the prince’s bedroom. The dark wood floor felt cold but familiar under his bare feet, the cobblestone walls making the room feel dingy and gloomy. Leaning against the door as it closed slowly, he took in the sight in front of him. 

Prince George sat at the table pushed up to his window, his back to Clay, facing the kingdom below and the sky above. The prince had his elbow on the table, resting his cheek on his hand as he stared at the landscape. He looked almost sad, but content nonetheless.

Clay felt his face glow pink and warm as he looked fondly at the prince, smiling to himself.

He loved him. He had loved him since they were kids, playing on the castle grounds and sneaking out to the forests and rivers of the kingdom, splashing in the water happily as Clay, the younger but the stronger of the two, chased George through the rocky bottoms and muddy banks of the river. Since they were pre-teens, taking long walks as they talked and laughed, and sparring on the days George’s governess was not too near.

Now they were older. More mature, and Clay had started to learn his place. He was George’s best friend, but he was also his servant. The prince was untouchable, royalty, the heir to the throne and the crown, and bound to cast Clay aside when he became king. It was a hard pill to swallow for Clay, but he had learned to accept his feelings for the prince would never become anything like he had hopelessly dreamed of.

As Clay was lost in his thoughts, staring at the prince with a sad, fond smile, George felt a presence and turned around to see Clay standing there, food tray in hand, and a smile made of honey crept across his face.

“Hi,” George sighed softly, tilting his head.

“Hi,” said Clay, startled as he is torn out of his own head. The start brought him walking swiftly to the table, setting down the food tray in front of George.

“You okay?” George asked, looking up to meet his eyes with Clay’s. He relaxed into the gaze and swears, those dark brown eyes are going to be the death of him. 

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” Clay stands up straight after setting down the tray. The energy around them buzzed warmly as they held eye contact.

“Eat with me?” George’s voice was sickly sweet, and dripped the way syrup does. Clay looks down at the food, nervous about that eye contact that lasted just a beat too long.

“Sure.” Clay took a roll of bread from the tray and leaned against the wall, picking up a bite-sized piece with his fingers and popping it in his mouth. “How was your day?” he smirked.

“Don’t talk while chewing please.” George scolds him lightly with a smile, looking down at the food. He picks a grape from a bunch and studies it before popping it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing it. “It was fine.”

“Just fine?” Clay asked quizzically, leaning his head to the side as he studies George’s face with a stern look. “Did something happen?”

“Father was getting on my case again.” George fiddled with his fork, no longer smiling. “Says I’m still not worthy of the crown, the usual.”

“Hate that bastard.” Clay mumbles before eating another piece of bread.

“Watch yourself, you work for him you know.” George glances up to find Clay staring.

“I know, but he’s awful, he treats you like a pet, and gets unnecessarily mad every time you slip up just the smallest bit.” Clay spat without thinking. He had a feeling he loved George more than his own father did, but he kept that to himself. 

“He’s my father, I just have to go along with it.” Clay looked back down at the floor.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s what made Clay the saddest. He would never be able to fully understand what George was going through, but he would still do anything to take away George’s pain, his hurt, all his negative thoughts and emotions. He would make them his own if it meant George would be happy and free and no longer hurting.

They sat in silence for a while, tension in the air falling thick around them. The only noise was the clicking of utensils against plates as Clay turned to stare out the window. The kingdom below glowed warmly, high-sitting oil lamps illuminating the cobblestone streets and houses. He turned back to see George, stunning George, gorgeous George, beautiful George-

“Clay, what’s bothering you?” Clay snapped out of it to see George’s eyes on his. Clay looked back down at the floor quickly and fiddled with his hands nervously.

George stood up out of his chair and walked over to his bed, sitting down slowly on the edge.

“Come sit.” He says, a soft smile on his face, patting the bed with his hand. Clay walked over and sat down, still looking at the floor, nervous tension through his entire body.

George shuffled closer, their thighs touching ever so slightly, sending a shiver down Clay’s spine. 

“What is it?” George spoke with that same sweet voice that drove Clay crazy. He felt a warmth spread across his cheeks again and turned away from George. 

George leaned forward to look at Clay, studying the side of his face, his cheek, his jawline, his neck, with a concerned intensity. He reached and caught Clay’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing Clay’s eyes back to look at him. George slides his hand to cup Clay’s face and jaw.

And look at George, Clay did. He let his heart flow out through his eyes, melting into George’s touch. He let himself stare into those beautiful, dark brown eyes, sinking deeper and deeper.

He almost forgot George asked him a question and snapped out of it to stammer, “I- um- you- I-“

George seemed to melt as well, a fond smile spreading across his face before he pulls Clay’s face towards him to press a soft kiss on his cheek.

When he pulls away, he moves his hand away from Clay’s chin to drag it down his neck and onto Clay’s chest, feeling the rough material of his tunic and Clay’s heartbeat speeding up as he spread his fingers and palm across his chest, George’s eyes trained on his hand.

He looks up slowly to meet Clay’s eyes. He’s wide-eyed, mouth slightly open as he looks down at the hand on his chest and back up at George. They look into each other for a moment.

Clay’s mind and body were screaming, aching, longing. He couldn’t handle it anymore.

His breath hitches, and he leans in to close the gap, with a soft kiss, trying to hold back his intense longing.

He feels a nervousness pool in his stomach as he realizes what he’s done, but the nervousness turns to something warm as he feels George move his lips against his. It was slow, cautious, full of unsure and nervous electricity.

Clay raises his hand to glide it up the back of George’s head and into his hair, his other hand coming down to rest at George’s waist. The touch makes the older boy shiver and melt and tug at the front of Clay’s tunic to pull him closer. 

Clay takes a leap of faith and takes a bit of George’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugs at it slightly, omitting a small whimper from George.

It was almost too real. Clay shuddered as he felt the vibration from George’s noise pass through his body like a current.

Clay pulls away for air, breathing hard. As he pulls away, George chases his lips with his own, clearly not finished with him. A smile creeps across Clay’s face. He isn’t finished either. 

He stands up, hooking one strong arm under his shoulders and another under his knees, and picks George up. George shrieks a little.

“Calm down, I’m just moving you,” Clay says as he sets George down on the bed, his head coming down to rest on the pillows, and Clay can’t help but notice the blush spread across the prince’s face, his lips looking red and slightly swollen from being kissed.

“I’m pretty sure I can move myself,” George grunts, his arms coming to cross against his chest, sticking his bottom lip out in fake-annoyance.

He’s cute when he’s angry.

Clay brings his face down to George’s ear, “I’m sure you can,” he whispers in a low voice.

George’s entire body stiffens as Clay climbs on top of him. Clay leans down again to whisper in that same low voice, “Do you want to keep going?” 

He feels George shiver under him and he responds with a breathy “yes,” the permission letting Clay lean down and bring his lips back to George’s. 

The kiss is hungrier this time, more passionate and full as inhibition is replaced by want and lust. 

George whimpers and whines into Clay’s mouth, only causing Clay to kiss him deeper, reaching down to lift up his shirt to grip the bare skin of his waist. George grabs onto Clay’s biceps, and the electricity from the contact is felt through both of them.

Clay breaks away to trail kisses along George’s jawline, making George’s body turn to jelly and his breath hitch. Clay moves his lips to George’s neck, hovering there, breathing, before starting to kiss down George’s neck. George throws his head back and whimpers as he grabs at the back of Clay’s tunic.

The noise fuels Clay and he starts licking the side of the prince’s neck, George continuing to whine as Clay sucks at the area, drawing out red marks on the prince’s pale neck.

“Clay,” George moans and brings his hands to grip in the younger boy’s hair. Clay moves to the other side of George’s neck, this time trailing kisses down to where shirt meets skin. Sitting up, his hands hover over the buttons on the older boy’s shirt. 

“Can I?” voice low and warm. George nods quickly before bringing his forearm up to cover his eyes as he pants.

“No no no,” Clay lifts his hand to grab George’s wrist and moves his arm from his eyes. “Baby, you look beautiful.” 

George whimpers as Clay leans back down to kiss him as he unbuttons the prince’s shirt. He pulls away from the kiss only to have George chase his lips again. Pushing up on his hands, he observes what’s in front of him. 

George, the boy he’s longed for his entire life, under him, littered with fresh bruises of his own creation, lips kissed red, and a dark red flush spreading from his face down to his chest.

What a sight to see, really.

He makes eye contact with George and holds it, moving down to kiss his collarbones lightly. The prince shivers and whines under the contact, and Clay begins to lick and suck at the sensitive skin, coaxing moans from George, as more bruises rise to the top of his skin.

“Ah, Clay, please,”

Maybe it was too much. But Clay liked it that way, and so did George.

Clay moved back up to kiss George, the kisses becoming more and more sloppy as the exhaustion took over their bodies. 

It was Clay who decided to stop them, rolling off of George to occupy the other side of the bed, both panting heavily as they regained their breath.

——————————-

They sat in a comfortable silence, Clay’s hand in George’s hair as he lay with his head on Clay’s chest and his arm around Clay’s middle. 

It was George who broke the silence.

“What are we?” He picked up his head to rest his chin on Clay’s chest, eyes coming up to meet his gaze.

“We are whatever we want to be.”

George was silent for a moment. “What if I want to be yours?” he asked.

“Other way around.”

“Hm?”

“I’m yours. I’ll always belong to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys liked it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! if you wanna follow me on twitter, it's @mintgreentea05 :o


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